"Detectives Cooper and Genov," Lamar began, offering her his shield and waiting to continue until Genov had done the same. "You are..?"
She studied the badges carefully before nodding.
“I am Amanda Clauneot, the owner and manager of theAfter NineSocial Club.” Mandy held a bottle of water out in offering, twisting the cap off when the detectives shook their heads. “Please, have a seat and tell me how I can assist you.”
Lamar reached into his inside jacket pocket and withdrew a small zip-top baggie that was sealed with dull red tape. Handing it to her, he asked, "Do you recognize this?"
Mandy smoothed the wrinkled plastic and read the slip inside. "Of course. This is a membership receipt from my club." She raised a perfectly manicured brow at Lamar. "Why are you showing it to me?"
"It was found in the pocket of a man who died suddenly," Genov interjected. "The receipt is from the night he died."
"I see." Mandy sank down on a stool covered in tufted dark rose plush. “It seems odd that I would be unaware of a death that took place in my club.”
Lamar grinned inwardly. Ms. Clauneot was one cool customer.
“Of course, you would,” he agreed, skimming over her unasked question about where the death had occurred. “We’ve been unable to identify the victim and thought you might be able to assist us.”
“I see.” She seemed to mull that over for a moment, then slid a slim cell phone free of its hiding place in her ample cleavage.
Swiping over the screen, she began to type the numbers from the receipt into an app. A moment later, she held the phone out to Lamar. "The receipt belongs to a member named Paul Parker."
“That’s our vic,” Genov muttered, glancing over his shoulder as Lamar accepted the phone and read through the bio on the screen.
Mr. Parker, it seemed, was forty-two years old, married, and employed as a machinist, Lamar noted in surprise. "You certainly keep thorough records on your members," he observed, handing the phone back.
"We do," she acknowledged. "We perform a thorough background check on all prospective members to ensure that they're, shall we say, authentic." She flipped to the next screen. "He has his wife listed as his emergency contact," Mandy said sadly. "Should I contact her?"
"No!" Genov and Lamar chorused as one. They exchanged a glance and Lamar continued on smoothly. "Department policy requires us to make the notification, if possible."
Mandy nodded. "Of course.”
“Can you tell us anything about his visit here?” Genov asked, pen poised over his pad.
Mandy’s slim shoulders rose and fell. “Not off the top of my head. Saturday night was quiet. There were no issues or altercations, to speak of.” She pointed to the top line on the receipt. "This number means that he had a standing appointment with Ren."
"What for?" Genov inquired.
Mandy shrugged. "It could be anything from cuddling to light punishment, as those are Ren’s specialties. You would have to ask Ren," she said calmly. "It would only be noted if it had cost extra. In theory, that means the client’s tastes must have been relatively run of the mill."
Genov shook his head. "He sure didn't die all up in his vanilla kink."
Mandy threw her head back and laughed. "I said runof the mill," she clarified. "There's nothing vanilla about the members here."
“I see. Would it be possible for us to speak with Ren?”
“I’m afraid not,” Mandy said smoothly. “He doesn’t work on Mondays. If you’d like to leave a card, I can have him contact you or you’re welcome to return tomorrow evening. His shift starts at nine, obviously, but he’ll be here by eight-thirty.”
“Thank you.” Lamar stood, pulling a card from his pocket. “We’ll be back tomorrow unless we hear from you or Ren sooner.”
